Changing Lives
by Faery's Delight
Summary: What if...their lives had been switched? What if Clint had a loving family? What if Phil had been turned on by his own brother? What would change? And what would stay the same?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Changing Lives

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Phil/Clint

Chapter: 1

Words: 1313

Warnings: not a lot

AN: Before you come for me about the last names, I will remind you that I am a writer of Avengers fandom. Reread the damn summary. I'm to tired to deal with that kind of bullshit.

But today I hope that you enjoy the start of this lovely story! I want to thank cutsycat for the interesting idea and letting me run with it.

Philip J. Barton's life started as normal as any other life out there. He was born to two parents, but not into a happy home. The two parents hated having him and his older brother around, making everyone in the family miserable. His brother got away with hiding away at some low life friends' places, getting out of the house that they mockingly called 'home'.

Phil though wasn't so lucky. He parents often went after him in drug or alcohol fueled rants and attacks. By the time he reached the age of ten, he had learned to dodge when he had to and read what kind of moods his parents were in. His brother, however, dove head first into a number of nasty situations before he turned fifteen.

His tenth birthday brought some much-needed relief. His mother had dragged off their very high father to drive her to the store to get some needed essentials, such as microwaveable dinners so that she could eat with her drink.

He would later learn from the police files that his father had swerved into the oncoming lane before he careened out of control and wrapped the car around a pole. Phil hadn't truly cared at that time and neither had his brother. Both brothers knew that their parents were fucked and had fucked up big time this time. They had admitted that they had a file with a CPS worker who hadn't given a shit.

She had been reprimanded, her files gone over, and sent back to school after that.

After they had lost their parents, Phil and Barney had been sent to live with an uncle who worked for a circus as their accountant and Ticketmaster. The estate, from their parents, had left behind some money, surprisingly. It had been placed into a trust until they were eighteen or were going to college, whichever happened first.

Living with their uncle, the two had started to work on homeschooling for most of the year so that they could get their diplomas and have good enough futures. The circus moved around, much too often for them to stay in one spot to go to a normal school. Their uncle tried to make life as normal as he could, even if it meant schooling them with the other kids with parents in the circus.

In Phil's mind though, homeschool had been the best thing to happen to him since he had absolutely no urge to deal with people who couldn't understand him. Or what he had gone through with his parents. He had never been good at dealing with most people. At least not those of his own age group since they had all seemed so very childish to him.

He had often found himself alone in some way when their parents had still been alive. He would find a place to hide so he could eat his lunch or study for his next class. Even sometimes just to get away from the stares and sneers that came from children of his own age for the state of his clothes and the food he brought with him daily.

He took to the home studying under his uncle like a duck to water. He worked on his classwork whenever he and his brother weren't out helping with something to do with the circus. They both had chores to do, earning their keep and some pocket money. They learned how to keep the equipment in good shape before helping to haul it off to the people who were setting up. Or he would muck out the stalls of the animals; sometimes doing laundry with a couple of the women.

His brother on the other hand had started to make connections in every city that they happen to land in, growing his net outwards. It hardly made their uncle or Phil happy, but they couldn't do a thing about it.

Phil found that he didn't do very well as an entertainer when he turned sixteen, but he didn't mind that and found that he liked being the gopher of the circus. Even as he ran around doing errands, he learned his uncle's trade. He found, that just as with his various math classes, the numbers came easily to him, and so did the ins and outs of a traveling circus. His uncle had beamed happily when he had learned that he was thinking of going into something like accounting if he ever got the chance to.

The owner was even happier when the young Phil figured out a way to keep things high end, and under budget as long everything was kept perfect. It had included new contracts for new food providers and new ways to get more food locally from various farms or local markets if they were close enough to where they were.

Phil was happy as a clam right up until after his eighteenth birthday. The days of his traumatic childhood had been left far behind him. His brother had started to stay under the radar of the police and those who would hurt him for daring to get on their turf to run his business. That just made it easier for Phil to ignore the man. He was making good money working with his uncle as an accountant, but also forming some new contracts that would keep the circus going for a long time.

He had found his place, or so he had believed. Barney never found a place, though.

In or out of the circus.

He connected with those who came and went, but they never really caught his attention for much more than the occasional fuck.

Not that Phil really had much to say since he didn't find anyone that he could connect with on a deep level. Sex was all well and good, male or female, he wasn't picky, but they were still rare and far between. He didn't let it bother him though. He had a plan for his life and he was going to live it.

He had started to build a nice little nest egg along with his trust fund that he had sent back into CDs to make him more money through interest, so it wasn't as if he was hurting for money. But he still thought that something felt off from his life. He often wondered just what he could be missing as he stared at his few possessions, which for the most part consisted of his clothes, books, and the very collectible Captain America and The Howling Commandos trading cards.

He didn't have much want for anything else, and he got to see new places running around the United States with the circus.

But it was still as if he wasn't fulfilling his potential in life.

One day he sat down and talked with his uncle about what he wanted in life. The man suggested that he do some research into what kind of colleges he could get into after he got his diploma. See what sparked his attention and what called to him in the long run.

The next town they stopped at, he went to the local library and used their computers to do some research that he didn't want his brother to find on his computer. An hour later, he walked out with a thick stack of paper in his backpack, several pamphlets from various colleges around the US, and a couple books on various degrees and what they were good for.

He spent the next week that they were settled reading over everything and going back to the library when he could get away to print out more papers filled with information. Barney watched him do all of it with a sneer, often disappearing late into the night and coming back smelling of pot and booze.

Phil doubled his efforts in ignoring his brother.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Changing Lives

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Phil/Clint

Chapter: 2

Words: 2390

Warnings: stabbing of a brother, attempted homicide, theft

AN: It is the 5th of November. I am nearly at 10K for my Nano. It is ten minutes to 6AM. I am…exhausted but can't stop my brain from working over-time.

Enjoy.

* * *

It all came to a head two weeks after he had celebrated his eighteenth birthday by going to see the Freakshow Museum. After that, he had gone to a pizza parlor that had come highly recommended by his uncle. His brother had been noticeably absent from his own job as one of the trash pickers for the day. His friend and partner, TrickShot, the circus' trick shooter, had also disappeared that day.

Phil hadn't even known about that until his uncle had told him the day after. Even then, he hadn't cared about what was going on with his brother, still trying to ignore him.

The night that changed things, while in his trailer, he had been lounging in bed, reading when a knock came from his door. Standing up from his bed, he padded to the middle of the trailer, opening the door to find his brother standing on the RV steps. The man was smiling brightly up at him and chuckled softly at his look.

"Phil, let's talk, my brother," Barney said, looking bright eyed and bushy tailed.

Staring at his brother, Phil sighed before stepping back. "Alright, come on, get on in," he said, shaking his head at his brother. Barney stepped up into the trailer, allowing Phil to close the door behind him with an eyeroll. "So, you going to tell me why you're here and not helping the night crew clean things up? Like you're supposed to be doing."

Barney snorted and waved him off. "Don't worry about it, baby brother," he said, sitting down on the small couch after grabbing a beer from the refrigerator. "Come on. I came to you to talk about something that me and Trickshot has been working on," he continued.

"Something?" Phil asked slowly, staring at his brother. He knew what his brother often did, or as much as he could while ignoring them when he could. Grabbing a bottle of juice from the fridge, he sat down next to the kitchen table, watching him carefully.

Barney just smiled and pulled some papers out. "We know where the guy whose running this circus has been hiding all his money. Asshole hasn't been at all truthful about how much he makes," he said. Phil didn't say a thing about that, knowing that his brother was talking out his ass about that. All money went through Phil and his Uncle.

Every. Single. Dime.

Popping his beer open, Barney took a long drag of the beer as he sat back with a smirk. "We have a plan on how to get it and get out of this bullshit place. Build a proper business venture," he said, looking at his brother with an eager grin. "But what we need is your help."

"Why?" he asked, crossing his legs as he continued to watch his brother. Something about the look on Barney's face had the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

Which was new since despite the distaste that he had always felt, he hadn't ever had problems with feeling unsafe with his brother.

"Because you have access to the accounts. And to all the safes that hold the cards to said accounts," Barney said. Phil slowly put his juice down onto the table next to him, staring at his brother with a hard look.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" he asked, eyes narrowed as he uncrossed his legs and shifted slightly to jump up and defend himself if it came down to. Or get out of the place if he could do that instead.

Barney snorted. "He hides all the account cards in the safe! The very safe that you stick the monthly books into every first of the month so that he can go over them and send them to his safety box for the tax accountant," he said, standing up and pacing around. His hands waved as he walked around in a small space, Phil watching with narrowing eyes.

"Are you high on something?" he asked. Barney just gave him a ' _you're an idiot_ ' look from the other man. "Alright, so you're not high. What is up with this fucking colossally _stupid_ idea?" he asked.

Barney scowled. "It's a chance to get the fuck out of this bullshit fucked up _shithole_ , Phil," he said. He was starting to sound pissed off, his face pulling into a snarling sneer.

Phil stared at him with narrowed eyes and snorted. "You've blown through your trust fund, haven't you? You had nearly a hundred thousand in that thing, and I should know since I helped it to damn well _grow_ it for your lazy ass." He stood up, eyes dark with anger. "You squandered it on whatever it is you fucking well do with all of your goddamn money. And now you're wanting to steal from the person who has helped to give us a chance to have a job resume for outside of this circus? And a chance at a proper scholarship? I know you're smart, you idiot, but you're not showing just how smart you are."

Barney snarled, fists curling into fists. "I don't think you quite get it. I've been setting up this goddamn business for _years_ ," he snarled. "I've been working on this and getting it ready to be fucking well launched but all I need is a couple thousand more! And that old bastard has held us back!"

"No, he hasn't! You have! You stupid fucked up bastard! You had _every_ chance at getting up higher, at getting a better position with a better pay, if you had just fucking well _done your goddamn job,_ " he snarled, voice quiet and deadly. Standing up straight, he smoothed his shirt down with a cold look. "You're lucky that uncle went to bat for you again and again and again. Goddamn. You never knew that he made sure that you _had_ a job to come back to at all. He made sure that even if you don't like them, at least they paid for you to do the work."

Barney's lips pulled back into a bigger snarled as he reached into his back pocket, pulling out a butterfly knife and flipping it open. With a yell, he attacked Phil, catching him off guard and sinking the knife into his side, missing anything deadly but still painfully deep. Phil gasped and shuddered as Barney pulled away with wide eyes, figuring out just what he had done as the other man gripped at his side and stared down at the blood that was sliding through his fingers.

Sliding down to his knees and leaning against the cabinet, Phil grabbed at his fresh dish towel and pressed it against the wound.

Barney, staring at his brother in shock, looked down at his hand with the bloodied knife before swallowing, closing it and sticking it back into his pocket. He knew that Phil could survive it, but he had bigger things to do. Like getting out of the trailer and getting the money.

Spotting the book that held all of Phil's notes and combinations that he used, he grabbed it and rushed out of the trailer, glad that it was so late as the door slammed behind him. No one saw him running towards the back edges of the land that they were set up on.

He ran to his own trailer, a much smaller fifth wheeler that he had been loaned, to wash off and then ran to meet with TrickShot at his huge trailer. The plan was going to go ahead, even if his brother wasn't going to be smart and join them. When his friend asked where his brother was, he brushed it off and said that it would be a smart idea not to use him since he had stolen the combinations.

They found out that Phil hadn't labeled them so went through them quickly and calmly in the large office trailer, finding that it was the third combination in the set.

Back in his trailer, while his brother was working on breaking the safe, he pressed the towel against his side and reached for the interconnected phone, pulling it down. Squinting through blurry eyes, he swallowed around the pain and pressed the numbers into the phone to call his uncle, choking on his words as he started to shiver with shock.

"Uncle…help…trailer," he got out, spitting the flood of drool, glad that he wasn't bleeding so badly that he was tasting it. Or that he had been stabbed any higher and by something longer than a butterfly knife. Dropping the phone, he slumped back, using what little energy he had in his shocked state to keep the dish towel against the wound in his side.

His uncle was quick to storm into the trailer, eyes widening at the sight of him before pulling the phone to him. Hanging up, he called nine-one-one and had them send emergency services.

As they usually did, the circus had it set up that there was an emergency set of EMT's at the circus just in case something so bad that they were needed to get to the hospital were close by. They had their own trailer and were fed well while on duty. They also did some of the work in the Circus 'healer' tent, a place where people who needed Band-Aids or other such items could go.

They pulled up in a blaze of red and blue lights, sirens going hard as they rushed in with a backboard, their third person setting up the gurney in the back. They didn't take it out, instead sliding Phil onto the backboard and out of the trailer, telling his uncle to meet them at the hospital in his own truck, and placed him onto the gurney from there.

All he remembered after that was having an IV laid into his arm, his shirt being cut off to expose the wound, and a daze of words and responses.

Two days later, he was awake enough to see his Uncle walk in after his shift at the circus for the day, looking tired and worn. "I guess I'm lucky that it's off-season and that we tend to plant ourselves in the warmer areas for a few weeks," he rasped.

His uncle chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "Leon is holding down the fort for you while Mark is getting the needed permits for another week just in case. We're doing brisk business since this place is a winter hot spot for a lot of people after warmth," he said, shaking his head with an amused smile on his lips. "So…it won't be hard. They're gonna discharge you in about three days and your bills are all covered by the circus insurance."

"Cool," Phil said, huffing lightly. His uncle gave him a small smile and stroked a hand through his hair. "You know it was Barney, don't you?" he asked.

"Yeah, I know. Asshole stole the owner's personal money that he'd been saving up for a ring for his girl," he said.

Phil groaned and rubbed at his forehead. "Why am I not surprised?" he asked, shaking his head with a frown on his lips. "Okay, yeah. The police came in," he told his uncle, the man sitting down next to his bed with a frown. "They asked who did it. I told them what I could remember at the time since the heavy morphine doses were slowly working its way out of my system," he said.

The man hummed and patted his hand with a smile. "Are you going to call them about your brother and tell them?" he asked.

Phil shook his head again. "No. No, I don't think I will. Knowing Barney the way I do? He's going to fuck up big time and get into enough hot water without my help," he said, leaning back into his bed.

His uncle watched him before nodding with a smile. "I cleaned up your trailer. I need ta know what you plan on doing, though." He looked at his stomach.

"I'm supposed to start college in two months. I figured that I'd travel out that way," he said, smiling at his uncle. "Hook my trailer up to my truck and drive off. Maybe see if I can't get my classes online," he continued.

He got a nod. "I…have an idea that you might like. I'll show you what I'm talkin' about when you get out and cleared," he said. Phil smiled.

Three days later and they were pulling into a storage unit in the next town, lounging back on the back seat of his extra-large truck. "Come on," his uncle said, parking in front of a vehicle storage unit. The man smiled softly as Phil slowly sat up with a wince, holding his side but able to move. The wound had been bleeding a lot and it had been kind of deep, but it had been easily closed fully.

Sliding out of his cab, he sighed and stood while his uncle rolled up the shutter of the storage unit. Within it, there was a brand-new travel RV that was just the perfect size for a single person and would sell for a good price should Phil want to. "Wow."

His uncle chuckled. "Mark is offering a hefty price for your trailer plus this RV, straight across." Phil looked at him. "Ten grand. The RV is brand new, well taken care of, and has under a thousand miles on it. He owns some land here and rents out the main house while usually living in the small cottage with his girl when they're on vacation or not at the circus," he said, shrugging with a smile.

Phil stared at it before looking at his uncle. "Can we look inside?" he asked. His uncle nodded and lead him through the RV. It didn't take him long to agree to it, along with the small truck to tow behind it. He would take the money and buy a new vehicle when he got to college. And sell the RV if he didn't find a cheap park to live in.

A week later, the circus was on the move to another warm tourist city and he was driving across the country to Seattle, Washington to start college.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Changing Lives

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Phil/Clint

Chapter: 3

Words: 1413

Warnings: nothing yet

AN: What's this? A chapter updated on time? Yes, that's right. A chapter updated on time!

I'm actually working on a very long Neji/Shikamaru/Naruto fic that is on chapter 42 right now. I'm also editing (heavily) my Kuroshitsuji/Bleach shorter chapter story that will come after this.

I am going to go back to editing the next 5 chapters of this story so I'm ready for you guys with it. *goes off to flop*

* * *

Unlike when Phil Barton was born, Clint Coulson was automatically loved by his mother and father. After he was born, Aaron and Maria had waited to name him, deciding against calling him Philip in his grandfather's honor since the man had his own history that would just weigh on their child. It took them only a few hours to agree to the name of Clint. The also decided to introduce him to the rest of their family at the next Christmas gathering in three months.

Any time they spoke about his first Chirstmas, his aunts and uncles all agreed that he was a happy baby, watching and gurgling whenever someone came near enough for him to see them. He rarely cried, mostly whining when it came time for him to be hungry or he had to be changed.

When he turned two, he was given a stuffed arrow with a matching stuffed bow that had been made by his uncle. The man himself was an archer and sniper for the military, and often did needle work in his free time. He had noticed that his nephew had amazing aim when he tossed stuffed toys at whoever was closest, and he wanted their attention. It wasn't long after that he did that any time his ears started to hurt him. Due to the fact that he didn't have the words to explain his hurting ears, they took him in to see an ear doctort.

Six months after he turned three, he was diagnosed as partially deaf, the strained hearing being what hurt him. It explained why he had thrown a toy, soft more often than not, at someone each time his ears hurt followed by rubbing at his ears when he got their attention. Once he was outfitted with some basic hearing aids in one ear and tubes in the other, he started to learn how to speak now that he could hear what his parents were saying clearly.

He later told them, when he had the words and thought process to use them properly, that it was like hearing words from underwater on one side.

Clint continued his path of growth, going from a content baby to a happy toddler and onto a chipper little boy and later a normal, content with life teen. By the time that he had started high school in a rather large semi-public boy's school, he was also an accomplished archer. The uncle who had given him his first stuffed bow and arrow had started to train him in using various types of bows from the moment that his parents said he could. He continued to do so even when Clint joined the city archery club in his junior high years.

By the time that Clint started his high school career, he had learned all that he could about the archery club, knowing that they often went to Nationals. He kicked up his practicing to every day for a good three hours during the summer before his freshmen year. When he tried out for the team, he went for a reserve position, knowing that while he was good, he was still young. He landed a team position though and kept that position for the next four years at high school.

He took shifts on Friday's, Saturday's, and Sunday's at his parent's pastry shop for extra money in his pocket.

He wasn't very surprised that his teachers didn't like him and called him an annoying trouble maker. He had issues with paying attention in class in their eyes, always fiddling with something or another, but he still somehow got perfect grades. They didn't know how he could get the grades he did, but he did it. During his freshmen year, his parents were often asked to come in to speak with the principle to speak them about another teacher complaining about things getting thrown at them.

They never once pinned it on him since no one had ever seen him do it, and he had never used something that could be traced back to him.

Some of the items that had been complained about had been bits of pink erasers, the same kind that everyone carried with his own still solid and only used bits found in his bag, and sometimes pencil lead that had broken from his pencils that he tended to keep nice and sharp anyways. Pins that the teachers could have sworn had been locked in desk drawers had also been used once or twice.

The accusations without any kind of proof had been dropped after the first six months of going in on the meetings between his parents and principle. Clint's grades were also adjusted when he demanded that his grades were marked by someone not his teacher. The fact that they were marking him down on a lot of his tests and some of his longer homework assignments came out because of that. But he didn't let that fact hurt him at all since he was too busy with the rest of his life to really worry about things like asshole teachers.

When not at school, practice or at tournaments, he was happily working at his parent's bakery, surrounded by the smell of pastries, chocolate, and sugar. He had started working for them the moment he turned fifteen, starting as a part time janitor, mostly cleaning the tables and the bathrooms. He was soon allowed to do dishes, close the shop, and make sure that everything was set up properly.

He was proud of his hard work, and his parents were pleased, allowing him to become a part-time cashier when he turned seventeen and had passed his higher math classes. He continued to work for them and even started to learn how to make the pastries, taking over the cooking that happened at night for a couple of months after he graduated.

He had sat his parents down one day just before graduation and admitted to them that he didn't know what he wanted to do with his life after school. Aaron and Maria both agreed that they wouldn't push him to figure it out for a year, allowing him to take the night job, but they wanted him to think about it and not push it off. He promised and took over the night shifts, making the starting batches and filling orders that would be delivered or picked up the next day. He found that working nights he was able to think and research as he needed depending on time of the week.

Whenever he sat down for his break or when something was cooking or cooling, he would sit at his laptop which was usually playing music, movies or a show on auto play while he worked, and research. He had gotten an archery scholarship, but he had given it up to one of his fellow mainline archers who didn't have the college fund that he had. He also had several acceptance letters from colleges, but none really interested him anymore.

He did play with the idea of going to a culinary school. But after some research, talking to a few of the students there, and a detailed tour of the campus, he decided that it wasn't a good idea for him. He preferred to learn with his hands and parents after all, and they wanted him to do a lot of classes based on theory first.

With that idea struck off his list of possible future careers, he turned to researching nursing schools, what he would need to get to be a teacher, business school, accounting degrees, and various other minor degrees that he could use to boost any major. He finally settled on doing a history minor with a nursing major, just because history was interesting to him. He started to figure out just what he needed for his degrees and started the base classes the January after he had graduated, still working night shifts.

Clint's father had also set him up with an apprenticeship with another baker at one of their sister sites to learn new recipes from him for new items for the third shop that they were going to open. He would be teaching his replacement once he had finished with the apprenticeship and his first semester of college so that he was able to take over as the main baker of the new shop.

He was 19 and life was about to take a new turn.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Changing Lives

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Phil/Clint

Chapter: 4

Words: 1745

Warnings: nothing, talk of death

AN: I am tired, but here is the next chapter. I'm hoping to get back to a normal schedule now that Thanksgiving is done. Enjoy.

* * *

He had just finished his apprenticeship when the news that his uncle had died during a training trip with a small group of snipers came to them. When he arrived home that morning, he found his mother crying and writing a list of things that needed to happen. His father talked with a man from the Army about when his uncle's body would be returned to the family.

"Mom?" he called, pulling his bag off his shoulder and dropping it onto a chair in the living room. The man winced and smiled sadly at Clint before nodding.

"I'll call you tomorrow once I have all of the information," he promised. Nodding to Clint again, he pulled on his cap and left with his briefcase, leaving Clint to stare at him before looking at his father with a curious, worried look on his face.

"Clint, you might want to sit down," his father said. Sitting down, Clint received the news that rocked his world and made him truly think about life and what he wanted to do in the long run with his life.

The funeral was planned by his mother with the help of his uncle's partner from his years as a sniper, giving him a full military send off. Clint was the one to receive the flag as his uncle's only heir, the man not having any love that he could acknowledge due to the Don't Ask, Don't Tell bullshit that the military had.

Staring at the flag and holding the letter in his hands, Clint let out a slow breath as he rubbed at his face. His uncle had admitted that he knew a mutant, one who couldn't see but could See things. She had told him that Clint would help change the world. Would find friends and love and happiness in a world of Shadows, fighting against the Evil of the worlds.

But he had to make a decision, figure out what he wanted to do with his life. He was at a split in the path of his life. Standing up, he found his computer and started to do some research, biting at his bottom lip in thought. There was a lot of information that he read over before he made an appointment at a local recruitment office.

Standing up, he talked with his parents about wanting to join the Army on a sniper path with a nursing side. Aaron and Marie shared a look before smiling at each other. Aaron's brother, Clint's uncle, had told them the exact details on what their child could do with his life should he chose to go into the military.

Agreeing that they would help him, the three gathered his college transcripts from the first semester and set it up so that he could finish off his summer classes without any issues from the college. He then took some of his college trust fund to invest in CD's that would put the interest into his fund.

In just three months, he was signed up to start in September with the chance to go home for Christmas since he was specializing as a sniper with his nursing continuing. His uncle had apparently talked up his nephew long before Clint had even thought of joining the military.

He most likely wouldn't leave the United States after his first six months but there was also a chance that he would. He knew that there was a chance of him coming back broken in some way from his time as a part of the military. Mental or physical, there was that chance.

He still felt that it was the right thing to do.

As soon as he finished his classes, he took those credits and transferred them getting the final official copies of his school records, both high school and college. He hid copies of them in various places for future use. His parents knew where he had them, along with copies of his birth certificate, social security information and bank statements for the last four, going on five, years.

With his information gathered, he left home and headed to his base camp for training. He had known that it would be hard, but he found that it was a lot like the time he spent training with his archery team. And his coach had been brutal in them keeping up with their physical fitness. He was just glad that he had carried on that need to stay fit and in the right shape for using a bow even after her graduated.

He made friends in his division, especially a guy named Myers who was looking towards finishing up his time in the military in four years with a degree. He already had a therapist who specialized in soldiers to keep himself somewhat balanced, the military willing to pay for him to see her when he had to. She had a contract with the government and was paid well to keep secrets.

Clint signed up with her for preventative therapy. He was thankful for he had done it a month into his training. He discovered that with her help, his patience was getting better, his thought process smoothing out and settling in. He also found that he was able to get over his uncle's death and the fact that the man had never been able to be himself. Not really.

He didn't tell her about his uncle and his sexuality, but she had just given him a small smile of knowledge and hadn't said a thing about it after wards.

When he went home for the holidays, he arrived that Christmas morning around four. By the silence of the house, outside of the snores of multiple people, his mother still hadn't woken up. But his cousins, all of them a lot younger then him, had all piled up in the living room with old holiday movies on repeat playing quietly on the TV. Smiling and pulling off his boots after closing the door, he put his duffle bag down and walked around his cousins, smoothing hair down and pulling blankets up.

With that done, he stroked the banked fire in the large fireplace under the TV back to life, making sure the grate was pulled closed. That done, he headed into the kitchen to start the five pots of coffee that would do to give the coffee drinkers in the family their first cup. He had been traveling with Myers for the last two days when their plane got snowed in and he had called them to tell them that he would be a day late.

When Myers had offered to drop him off if he didn't mind switching off driving for two days with a short stop at a hotel for some quick food and a shower three hours before he had arrived, he had taken it.

Humming softly, he turned on the radio that his dad kept in the kitchen and turned it down so that the Christmas music wouldn't disturb anyone while he was setting up the coffee. Singing to Jingle Bell Rock as he started to dig around in the rather full refrigerator for the start of Christmas breakfast, knowing that his mom would be waking up soon, he missed the fact that she was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at him as he laid out eggs, butter, and various other things.

"Oh, Clint, baby," she breathed once he had put the eggs down and grabbed a loaf of fresh-made bread. Spinning around, he beamed at his mother and put the loaf of bread down, walking over and picking her up into a hug.

"Mom," he sighed, putting her onto the ground again, the two clinging to each other, nearly crying at the fact that he was finally home. "Merry Christmas."

"I thought that you would have been home tomorrow," she said, sniffing softly as she finally pulling away, noticing that he was wearing civilian clothing.

"I would have been, but a friend and fellow trainee got a car. We got either the option to get a car, a refund, or a new flight and I was going to get a new flight, but Myers said if I got the refund and put gas in the car, he'd go for the truck. So that's what we did. Drove here the last couple of days," he told her.

Marie sniffed and pressed a kiss to his cheek before looking over him. "Go on up to your room and get a shower, sweety. Then wake your father, would you? I'll get the bread sliced up," she promised, getting a bright smile from him.

Giving her another kiss, Clint headed up to his room for a shower, carrying his pack up the stairs along with his shoes. Stepping into his room, he breathed in deeply and smiled at the fact that his parents had burnt some incense for him and changed blankets out. His cousin that he was closest to was knocked out on a blowup bed in one corner, snoring and drooling all over his own pillow.

Shaking his head, Clint put his bag onhis bed, found a new pair of jeans and a sweater that his mom had bought him back in September before he had left for basic training. He had worn it soft in the last few months and loved the color of it so wanted to wear it once more. Going into his attached bathroom, he closed the door and flipped on the light before taking a very hot shower.

After he was done, he walked out and smiled at his cousin who just gazed sleepily at him, blinking a few times before a broad grin spread over his face.

"Hey, brat," he greeted.

Mark chuckled and ducked his head. "Hey there, Army Boy. Welcome back," he teased.

Clint chuckled. "Thanks. Come on. I'm gonna make hot chocolate for everyone. The good old-fashioned way and everything," he teased. Mark scrambled out of bed and ran for the bathroom to brush his teeth and get dressed.

Shaking his head, Clint headed down the stairs and right into hugs from his various aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. He was so happy to be home even knowing that the path that he had started down had been the start of a hard one.

He knew that he would always have his family there waiting for him to come home after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Changing Lives

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Phil/Clint

Chapter: 5

Words: 1756

Warnings: nothing yet

AN: I have decided that should I not post a chapter on Monday, I shall post on Wed because life sucks that way.

And life sucked a lemon this last Friday. My mom's knee gave out and she's now going in for an MRI and has to pick up a knee brace, so fun times!

For now, enjoy.

* * *

Phil discovered during the time that he was traveling to his college that he enjoyed traveling just to travel. He was able to see the various places that he had always wanted to visit but had never been able to do so while working for the circus. He had so many pictures that he had to buy two shoe box sized cardboard boxes to hold them all in the first three weeks. He sent copies every so often to where his uncle was due with the circus. He also called the other man often, wanting to keep in touch with him and make sure he knew that he was still living.

When he wasn't playing tourist, he did a few freelance accounting jobs as he traveled to break things up and to pad his wallet with a little extra cash.

Something that he hadn't expected to happen was to run into his brother while he was relaxing during a job doing the taxes for a restaurant. He was sitting at a table, using their wifi to study some tax laws for the state, learning what they could and couldn't claim while eating from a plate with a grilled chicken sandwich and thick fries. Sitting in a booth, he jerked his head up when his brother slipped in to it on the other side of the table.

He narrowed his eyes at the man before turning back to his computer.

"Hey there, baby brother," Barney drawled in greeting. Phil simply gazed at him over the top of his laptop. Reaching up, figuring Barney wouldn't leave him alone, he slowly closed the laptop and sat back as he wiped his fingers on a cloth napkin.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again?" Phil asked, eyes narrowing. "It wasn't enough that you stole the money for an engagement ring and tried to kill me for you?" he asked. He surprised himself that he wasn't as bitter as he thought he would be considering what had happened.

Instead of bitter, he was pissed. He found that if he had a gun, he would have happily shot off his brother's dick and nuts to make sure he never reproduced and spread his stupidity.

"Aw, come on now, Philly. That was Buck stressin' me out, not really me," Barney huffed at him. He ran a hand through his hair. Phil just raised an eyebrow at him, not looking all that impressed at his words.

"You know, Barney, the _only_ reason why I am still alive is because of the fact that I was able to call our uncle, and he was able to get me after you stabbed me," Phil stated. Picking up his glass of soda, he sipped as he watched his brother wave down the waitress to order a beer. He nodded when she delivered the beer along with a fresh plate of fries and one of fruit for Phil, giving Barney a side eye. "Thanks," he said, nodding his head before she left with a smile. "Look, whatever it is you want, I want no part of it. It is because of you and your damn schemes that I'm not still at the circus and traveling on my own instead."

"And like I just told you, it was all Buck's fault. He got me all wound up and when you just fucked off like you did, I wasn't expecting ta snap and stab you," Barney growled. He once more got an unimpressed look from his brother.

"Oh yes. And you sure as hell rushed to call for an ambulance for your wounded baby brother," Phil said, the sarcasm dripping from each word that came from him. Barney winced and slumped down in his chair.

"Look, yeah, I know I fucked up. But I was kind of hoping that you would be willin' ta help me out with somethin'. I need to get out of town cause the chick that I started fucking around with named me as a baby daddy," Barney said.

Phil sighed and ate a small chunk of sharp cheddar. "And are you?" he asked even though he highly doubted it. For all that his brother was an idiot in certain things, he was still smart and played safe when it came to sex.

"Nah. First thing I did when I got tired of condoms with my relationships was get my tubes snipped," Barney replied. "I'm done with her ass stalking me around town. I just need a couple hundred to catch a train to New York. I got some friends there that I can crash with and they know a place I can get a job."

Phil snorted, shaking his head and drinking some of his soda. "I'm not going to give you a damn dime. I can get you a job with a construction company but after that, it's all you," he said. He opened his laptop again. Barney huffed at him, continuing to drink his beer, the two brothers not talking unless they had to.

By the end of the lunch, Barney had agreed to work at the construction job for a couple of weeks for some extra cash and left soon after with his schedule in hand. The stalker ex found Phil when he was packing up his stuff to return to the office, proving Barney's story. She tried to come on to him after catching sight of him, and in return Phil told her that he was gay, having her removed from the restaurant.

He burst out laughing when one of the women who owned the restaurant with her lover came in and told him about the woman trying to get him fired. She had sneered and left in a huff when told that they were lovers. But still, he knew that his luck was going to run out after his brother had popped up after so many months out of his life.

He cursed his luck black and blue when Buck Chisholm, aka TrickShot, popped up in Barney's life. Once more, he came with a scheme for easy money, still trying to use Phil's position, but this time with his position with the restaurant.

Phil told them off again and tried to get them out of his RV. When he was attacked by Buck instead of his brother, he was able to fight him off and shove him out of his RV. When Buck stabbed his tires when he couldn't get in, he simply called the police to file a report and then called his bosses to warn them of the plans.

With the calls and police done with for the night, he sat in a recliner and worked his way through a half bottle of whiskey, mourning the brother that he had had at one time. Before their parents had died. Before they had joined the circus. Before Barney had met Buck and had turned to a path of such evil.

Before his brother had become a stranger wearing a familiar face.

He spent the next day getting his tires replaced through the insurance and making sure that the RV was in good running order. The next day once he had finished more of the tax forms, his hand sore from the amount of writing he was doing, and eyes tired of looking at words, his bosses invited him to their place. Both women knew that he was still hurting from what had happened the day before.

Between the three of them, they killed off two bottles of rum and coke, respectively, along with enough pizza to feed six growing teen males.

They also talked. They talked about their lives up until that point, Phil learning how the womens' families barely talked to them because of their relationship and how their faith was still strong in God. They learned of Phil's past with his family, including Barney's thing with fucking up and hooking up with the wrong people at the worst possible times.

He also admitted that he was thinking about joining the military after his first year of college as a consultant if his college thing didn't work out. He had learned during his time with the circus several fighting styles, gifts from his fellow workers. He also had learned how to fire various weapons thanks to his uncle, and knew how to hack because of the owners now fiancé. He figured that he could at least make some money helping them along with his accounting skills.

And if nothing else came of it, he was sure he could actually join up for a few years and get them to pay for his continued work towards a degree.

The two women were smiling and promised to talk with a close friend of theirs that was an Army man high up and see if they couldn't get him in to talk to him. They said that if he was any good, they would possibly tap him as a civilian contractor to work as a group handler. Come morning, while nursing hangovers with take-out breakfast, coffee, water, and some painkillers, they made good on their promise.

Three days later and Phil was going over his employment history and what he had learned during his time during the circus. A week after that, he was starting to work his way through the series of tests that included gun proficiency and fighting abilities, much to his surprise. The testing took him nearly three weeks considering they wanted to know every little thing about him that they could. It left him sore and bruised and calling his college to change his classes to the local campus.

He had damn near moved into his boss' home and their guest bathtub, his RV parked in the back, but in the end, it was worth it all for him.

He was offered a chance to be a civilian trainer for the army, forgoing most of the basic training that most went through. He would go through one on one training since he already knew how to play nice with others and work in a team in the long run just to make sure his skills were sharpened, but he would be a signed contractor with a good amount of money. He was happy with the deal since he would have his own little house that he would live on the base.

He found himself, as he moved into the house, surprised at just how fast things could change, and for the better.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Changing Lives

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Phil/Clint

Chapter: 6

Words: 1068

Warnings: nothing

AN: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.

* * *

Clint was sitting on his couch, staring at an application that he had grabbed from his desk on the way out of his base on a whim. Nibbling at his bottom lip, he wondered what he had been thinking on the way home. He knew he could have gone to college on scholarships that he could have claimed from his archery mastery, but he hadn't wanted it then and he didn't want it now. He knew that he would have ended up going to parties when he should have been studying and studying when he should be sleeping.

He had a hard-enough time not falling into shit like that even six months before he had graduated high school.

He had known when he had decided to jointhe military that it would be harder, but it was keeping him on track for his degree in sound engineering. And his base had the best teachers for that, along with a paycheck and future opportunities for the best of them. Both within the military and outside of it. And he was happy with it!

He really was.

Looking up, he smiled at his mother as she wiped her hands off on a towel. "Okay, love, what has you thinking so hard?" she asked. Clint sighed.

"There's some new opportunities for me," Clint admitted as he played with the application.

 _"_ _You were offered a position on a team as a sniper?" Maria asked him, Clint nodding in agreement. "They know about your hearing issues yes?" she asked, noting that he had a new hearing aid in one ear._

 _"_ _Yeah. Apparently, that Tony Stark guy learned that some of the military guys were dealing with hearing issues. Designed to be smaller and work better, I'm testing one of them now. A few other guys are testing them out in the field. So far it works," Clint said, gently popping the hearing aid out and showing his mom. Instead of the huge battery that rested behind one ear, it was smaller, a smaller loop to hold it in place around the ear clear and soft. "But yeah, they know. They don't mind. They're working with integrating the communications units in with a working hearing aid for those who are worse than me. But for now I can use a normal unit in one ear and keep my hearing aid in the other."_

 _Maria hummed and looked at the application, reading over what they wanted from her son. "It looks as if for now you'll be finishing your training with a team before starting in smaller runs over seas," she read._

 _"_ _Yep. They want to see if this line of work will agree with me. I'm not sure what to think. It means I'll be killing people. I mean, I know Bucky Barnes was my hero when I was a kid instead of Captain America, but…" He sighed, running a hand over his face._

 _"_ _You don't know if you can kill another human being," Maria guessed. Clint smiled at her. "Honey, it says that the first few missions will be milk runs to say the least. Just light weight, you're hidden out of the way and staying safe, providing backup while the rest of your team goes in. You knew that joining would probably lead you to going overseas and killing a person in defense," she said._

 _"_ _Yeah, but this is…it's just hitting me. I guess. Seeing Uncle Ro' have that nightmare…" Clint groaned. "I never knew that he knew some of the Howling Commandos."_

 _"_ _Your grandfather's team did work with them on some concentration camp clear outs," Maria mused. "So, it's not surprising that your Uncle got to meet them," she said. "I think your father still chats with some of their grandkids."_

 _"_ _I didn't know that," Clint grunted, shaking his head. "I just wasn't expecting to be tapped to be a sniper. Yeah, I'm good with aiming and dad made damn well and sure that I knew how to fire a gun from a young age, but…"_

 _"_ _But to be tapped? It's a surprise, true, but they must have seen you working on your archery skills during free time," Maria said._

 _Clint sighed. "Most likely. Think I should do this though? I mean really?" he asked, tapping the papers with a frown._

 _Maria smiled and patted his arm, standing up. "I think you should let it percolate for a few hours in the back of your head while you come help me make the bread for the New Year spread," she told him. Clint sighed and shoved the papers back into their envelope, stashing the envelope in the one locked drawer that only his mom had._

 _With it locked up for the moment, he followed her with a smile, intent on making bread. When he had gotten home, she had already made the bread for Christmas dinner and wouldn't let him help with making the cinnamon rolls, but he loved making fresh bread. Between the two of them, they had a steady production of bread, rolls, and other treats that would be set out later that night for the dinner feast._

 _Two hours in, his cousins, aunts, uncles, and father all tramped back in from their afternoon at the local park and in the snow. Maria tutted and had them all go pull off their wet shoes and jackets before going for showers. The smaller cousins were taken to the bigger bathroom and allowed to clean up while everyone else took short showers if they felt like it._

 _While they were showering, Clint and Aaron started to make fresh hot chocolate for the kids, coffee for those adults that liked it, and tea for the others. After a light lunch and their chocolate, the younger kids were all sent to take naps in the various beds while the adults all sat around and watched a movie._

 _Clint napped a little in a recliner but otherwise thought of what he was going to do with sniper training. By the time the kids were up and running around again, screaming happily while the adults watched them, he had made his decision and grabbed the paperwork, going to his room to fill it out._

 _With that done, he put it away into his duffle, returning to the party, laughing when his mother handed him a caramel glazed cinnamon roll along with a cup of mulled wine._


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Changing Lives

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Phil/Clint

Chapter: 7

Words: 1938

Warnings: nothing yet

AN: So, mom headed to the hospital on Friday so I'm sorry that I was unable to post. She was having breathing issues, but she's doing much better.

Tomorrow, I go on a date with my girl and love on her all day. So enjoy!

* * *

Six months after he had filled his paperwork out and joined the group that he would be heading overseas with, Clint wondered just how fit they wanted him to be. He had hurt a lot more than his first six months of training, but it had started to get better at being able to carry his packs, along with his sniper rifle and all that came with it. They knew that he still preferred his bows, keeping up with his training and becoming proficient with the newer models after his CO found out which ones he was doing.

But he was enjoying the sniper training that he was going through.

During the first six months, he learned how best to test the winds and adjust accordingly so he could hit his target. He learned to hit it even miles away and how to break down his rifle in seconds as he ran if it came to it. He learned how to cope with the thought of killing another human.

And he learned how to be the hidden backup for his team, a trained assassin for the United States Military.

He found himself learning other things that they didn't train him for. He learned how to leave it behind when he went to see his family eight months after he started to train. He learned how to forget that he would kill in so many weeks when he went out with the friends that he hadn't seen in so long, learning what they had been doing since the last time they saw each other. After all, to them, e-mails, letters, and video chats had nothing on the connection of being face to face.

He learned all of that and more as he graduated from training and was shipped out to his new base overseas.

Just over three years after he signed the paperwork to become a sniper, he was coming to an end of his enrollment. He was trying to figure out just what he wanted to do with his life, having his major in sound engineering and a minor in communications. He had gained the Specialist rank just under two years before, was on the cusp of being named a Sergeant, and was thinking of reupping. The only reason he hadn't gained the rank sooner was because he had ended up in the hospital for a month with a cracked leg bone and hadn't been allowed to take the class he needed.

But really, he didn't think that it was a bad thing since he was still figuring out what he wanted to do. His record was spotless, and he could get a post-discharge paycheck from them for a couple of years along with a retirement fund that had been started the day that he got his first paycheck.

For the moment, he was sitting in a bar that his father liked to visit on occasion, working his way through a bottle of beer and a plate of mini tacos that were pleasantly non-greasy. He looked up with a raised eyebrow as a man with an eye-patch took the seat that across from him, staring. A pretty brunette woman soon joined them, sitting next to him, facing the room while the man stared back at him.

"Yah know, not that I don't enjoy company, but I don't usually have a pirate and his wench join me when I'm eatin'," he drawled slightly. He eyed the woman with sharp blue eyes. "Or maybe I should amend that to his first mate?" He took another bite of his current taco, chewing on it as he shrugged off the glare from the woman. He swallowed. "Who are you and why should I let you continue to sit there without callin' for a bouncer ta drop kick ya out?" he asked, letting his drawl come full force.

Sometimes having a father coming from the mid-west came in handy and having a drawl because of that could throw off people.

"My name, if you must know, is Nick Fury. And I have an offer for you, Specialist Coulson of the United States Army," the large man drawled.

Clint put down the last bit of the taco in his hand and really took in the guy before him. He had the skin tone of a starless night under the low lighting of the bar, and his eyes were just as dark. He had no doubt that under the eye-patch was a damaged eye, the eye still there and not gone as some would think. It didn't fit right to be just holding an eyelid in place. He wore a high-necked shirt that he didn't doubt was lightly armored, a pair slacks meant for movement, and a leather jacket to hide all of this. He wore thin leather gloves, and he had a feeling, if he looked down, the boots would be heavy duty. Meant for hard work and harder fights.

Looking over to the woman next to the man called Nick Fury, he noticed that the woman, for the most part, was his opposite. She was wearing a thinner version of Fury's high-necked shirt, smoother in texture, built for a woman's body instead of a man's broadness. It was tucked into well-tailored pants that tapered off into a boot cut. She wore low heeled boots on her feet that came up and over her ankles, the man only catching sight of it because of the way she was sitting. She wore a shorter, hip length leather jacket over her outfit.

With his training, he was able to see the slight bulge that came from carrying gun holsters.

Picking up the last bite of the taco, he cocked an eyebrow instead of speaking, eating it with nary a care. Fury smirked at him, leaning back and ordering a whiskey neat. "I am here to offer you a place under S.H.I.E.L.D. on a special team. We need a sniper of your qualifications and training."

"Do you now? And what is this...S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Clint asked, draining off his beer and sitting back, waving to the waitress and asking for a soda. He wanted a clear head and since he was there, he wanted one of their famous soda's.

Fury smirked and settled in to tell him all about what S.H.I.E.L.D. was. He talked about how they did the dirty work for the world to protect it. They went after the dealers that no one could touch, the ring leaders of the pedo rings that fueled the world. The twisted people who needed to be taken out and dealt with.

They didn't work for any one nation, but instead they worked for a carefully chosen group of people from every nation that had a stable government that wasn't counter-productive to a safer world.

Fury told him about the history of S.H.I.E.L.D. and how it started. How at first it was called the Strategic Scientific Reserve and it had helped to create Captain America during World War Two How it had continued but eventually been disbanded only to be started by one Peggy Carter with the help of her life-long friend, Howard Stark.

He knew most of the history of Peggy Carter, Captain America, and the Howling Commandos, including his personal hero, James 'Bucky' Barnes. He knew quite a few personal stories about the men, and even Peggy Carter because of his grandfather. With those stories in mind, he had a feeling that Fury was bullshitting him hard on a lot of things but kept his mouth shut.

Fury did go over just what they wanted him for though. They wanted him for his assassination and infiltration expertise. He would be a part of a small team with a trained handler. The team would include a hacker, an information specialist, another assassin who would be for more up close and personal missions, and two backup agents who would be their jack-of-all-trades.

And of course, their commanding officer who was to be their handler.

From what he was told, the chosen handler was going to be a man who had worked closely with the Army for the last five years as a civilian fighting specialist along with a few other things. The man had joined them six months prior as a handler and already had one group who was ready to move onto bigger missions.

The woman, who introduced herself as Maria Hill, handed him a thick file. Within it was the information of what his contract would entail, the two watching him read it as he finished the two other tacos. Licking his lips and wiping his fingers off on a napkin, he drained half of his soda before closing the file. "I'm sure you know that I'm gonna want to think on it right?" he asked. "I've had alcohol, and this is a big decision."

Fury smirked at him but nodded. "I'll send Hill to talk with you in a week. I don't think that I have to tell you to keep quiet on what I'm offering, right?" he asked. The look from Clint clearly told him how much of a dumb ass the man thought he was being. "Good. Thank you for your time, Specialist Coulson," he stated, standing up. He left with Hill following him, file in her hands.

Sitting back in his chair, Clint smirked before he waved down the waitress for his tab, snagging the money that Hill had left behind. He paid for the drinks and left a tip for the harried woman who had smiled at him before he left with a wave over one shoulder. He caught a cab and headed back to the base that he was doing the last few months of his time, falling into bed after a quick shower and a schedule check.

For the next week, he thought about the pros and cons of what he had been offered, and when Hill strolled up to him in the gym on base, he had an answer. Telling her that he would meet her at the little on-base cafe, he showered, changed and headed over. Getting an order of coffee, he sat with her while she sipped her tea, taking the file shoved over.

He reread the contract and noticed that a few of the clauses that he had lingered over at the last meeting had been tweaked to be better for him in the long run. Smirking, he filled out the correct parts and signed it all. He watched as Hill checked the paperwork and made it official with her signature.

He had four months, three months left on his duty and a month to rest, to find a new apartment in New York, and visit with his family, before he started to train. He was feeling pretty good about signing on, the signing bonus not hurting at the very least. He found out that they had a land base in New York and that he would be spending a lot of his time there when not working on other things.

When he told his parents that he had joined up with an agency, using the name that they had given him, they were happy with the fact that after his first year, he would be able to visit them every three months. Mini vacations of three days, not including the two days to travel, or so he told them.

It was a good deal and when he met the man who was their handler, he had to admit that they had some eye candy. Even if the guy was a bit of a stick in the mud.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Changing Lives

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Phil/Clint

Chapter: 8

Words: 1965

Warnings: nothing yet

AN: Last week was soooo damn busy and now I'm tired. Very tired. I'm going to do things now if you will excuse me.

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Phil had surprised himself when he had decided to go the route of a civilian contractor for the army after landing in Virginia at a restaurant. Doing taxes for two gay women and taking over their bathroom while he had gone through some basic training of his own to make sure he was in a good place had been odd. But he had gone through it and was becoming a trainer at a smaller base that trained for specific reasons.

Phil had joined in some boot camp exercises when he had time between his classes, finding that it had been easier after the training he had gone through. He used the four years of his contract to train everyone who was assigned to him how to fight dirty and use their natural shapes to their best abilities.

To his pride, when the groups he taught were shipped out, they usually all came back. Some came back banged up in various degrees, but they came back alive. Which made him feel good and work harder with his classes every day.

He worked hard to keep his contract, make him the best choice for the best groups. His drive ended up paying off for him as he gained a reputation for being close to some of his best groups after they left. And for being able to teach them how to properly sneak around, a skill he had perfected when his parents had been alive and during his years with the circus. They gave him the option of the contract becoming permanent when he graduated with his engineering degree, and was still finishing off his minor in business.

That was when they found him: thinking on a park bench about if he did want to take the military up on their offer. A woman with her hair pinned back in a bun, wearing a pair of jeans and shirt that he could tell was lightly armored with a hip length leather jacket over that walked up to him. She looked military and her jacket didn't quite hide the guns that were most likely tucked up high and against her side. .

She moved like an assassin. Phil snorted at her and slouched down when she sat down next to him.

"Wanna tell me what I can do for you today?" he asked. He reached into one pocket and pulled out a pack of gum with negligent care. He popped one of the sticks into his mouth after unwrapping it, sticking the pack and foil into his pocket again.

She looked over at him, taking him in over her sunglasses. He felt distinctly judged by that look, as if the holes in the knees of his jeans were an insult to her personally. "Phil Barton, correct?" she asked.

"Yep. And you are? Since you already seem to know who I am," Phil drawled. He turned to look at her with cool, calculating eyes. He wondered if she was a recruiter of some kind for an agency here to headhunt. He wasn't disappointed when she pulled out a card to hand over it. Reading it, he ran a thumb over the raised letters. "S.H.I.E.L.D.? Can't say I've heard of it," he said, looking over the card. On the back was a number.

"No, you wouldn't have. Not unless you have the clearance to hear about us," she said. "My name is Maria Hill and I'm second in command of S.H.I.E.L.D. My boss would have been here for this but currently we're dealing with new recruits that needed to piss their pants." Phil snickered softly, remembering the few times that he had scared his own trainees. He was civilian, thus to a lot of those who were a part of the military, it meant that he was soft.

He loved disabusing them of that knowledge by not only kicking their asses but scoring higher than them in the various tests that were used to figure out where they were.

"So. What brings you to bother me?" he asked. He tucked the card into his pocket with his gum as he chewed on a piece. He idly wondered if he needed to just get some new gum; some without so much cinnamon perhaps.

"We need some new handlers for a few of our teams," Maria stated. She crossed her legs, resting one arm over her legs and one on the back of the bench. "One of our best handlers wants to retire soon, and a couple can't return to handler duties because of their physical issues. We need people to replace them and we want you to replace our best. I have a feeling that you'll do just fine." She looked over at him with a smirk. "The best actually. We've seen the records you have with the groups that you've trained. Those you've trained, as long as they're not dealing with idiot higher ups, tend to come back in one piece. We're offering you a place when your current contract finishes off. If you want to learn more, you call that number, get the web address where you can read up on everything that we're offering you, along with the password."

With that said, she stood up and left him to stare after her, his eyebrow raised as he watched her go. He turned back around to stare out over the park before he stood and headed back to the base. Arriving at his personal home, he watched something on the TV without seeing it and continued to think over the offer. He played with the card, going over the contract that had been offered by the army.

Both jobs he had a feeling would pay well, but the job with S.H.I.E.L.D. would probably pay _very_ well. And have benefits and packages for those leaving that would treat him well. Something he had worked for since he had turned sixteen and could start his retirement fund. He wanted to be able to live well without worry after all.

Maybe write some more books beyond the ones that he dabbled in when not working or relaxing from work.

Sighing, he stood and walked to his land line, picking it up and dialing the number, deciding that he should probably do some research first.

" _Name?"_ came a bored voice over the line after a single ring of the phone. He blinked as his lips twitched, finding that promptness interesting.

"Barton, Phil," Phil stated. He answered a few more questions meant to make sure that it was him on the phone. He even discussed the attack by his brother, talking about how his brother had left him after stabbing him. He soon had the URL and password to check out along with the warning that he wasn't ever to give it out to someone who wasn't in the know.

Rolling his eyes, he sat down at his laptop, stroking the Stark Industries computer logo, still surprised that such a big weapons company would start to branch out into computers. And fuck if they weren't some of the best laptops out there.

Opening his browser, he tapped in the URL, entered the password and settled in to read over the information on the page. He took the rest of the day and late into the night, going to bed when he was exhausted, and his head couldn't stand any more information.

Even with his head filled with all that information, he was able to get to bed and up at the normal time. He went for his morning run before coming back to his house to shower and dress for the day. After a light breakfast, he left the house to train his current group in working together, mind still working out the pros and cons. When his group once more failed to get through their training simulations because of some petty bullshit in his mind, he filed the paperwork that they be separated if they couldn't work through their issues.

And made his decision.

When it came time to either sign the contract or startto look for a new job, he told the man who was over him that his new job had a year-long contract for testing. And that if it didn't work out, he'd be back to kick more ass into shape. He then went back home, called the number and was patched through to Maria, the people used to him calling while trying to straighten out his contract.

"So, to be clear, my own team and I have final say on who is or isn't a part of it," he said once she had picked up with a clipped 'Hill' in greeting.

" _Yes, Barton. Your team will be specializing in infiltration, information and assassination. You will be working from both the field and from the carrier. Your main job, Barton, is to keep your people safe and alive,"_ Maria stated. He could feel the smugness that came from her, knowing that she had gotten him to come in by being bluntly honest with him.

Phil hummed. "And I'll have absolute control of what this group does, yeah? No one will bitch or moan if I feel that their training isn't going well enough and I can stop them from going out to put them through some heavy-duty training?" he asked.

Maria snorted in his ear. " _That is also right. You will have control over your group. But remember, with that control comes all the paperwork. And before you can get your own group, you'll be working with the guy you're replacing first,"_ she reminded him. " _I know that you'll like him. You will start three weeks after your contract is done and the paperwork fully filed. I'll send you the file of information that you need to read and sign before you're done. That will include a list of apartments where other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents like to live in. I suggest that you start looking for a good condo. There's some new places open."_

"I will do that, Hill. Thank you for this interesting opportunity," he drawled, getting a low chuckle from her.

" _Just wait until you meet Fury, Barton. I'm looking forward to seeing you as one of us,"_ she said before hanging up. Phil snorted as he closed his phone with a snap and dropped it onto his table.

He had a rather good feeling about what he was going to do and looked forward to it. He didn't know just what would happen, but it was as if his path had been working to bring him to this point and time. To be hunted down by S.H.I.E.L.D. and offered an amazing job by a pretty blond who had a sharp sense of humor under her icy exterior.

Looking around the office, Phil smirked and stood, grabbing his phone and keys from the table, heading to where his car waited for him. If he wanted to be packed up by the time that he was discharged, he had to start weeding things out. Getting rid of items that he could replace later.

And he'd have to see if his lovely friends would let him buy his old RV from them since they were looking for a bigger one now that they had a kid. There wasn't any real reason why he couldn't live out of it after he traveled to New York and hunted for a condo. Making a note to look that up when he got home, he pulled out of the parking spot and headed to where he had a storage unit holding a lot of his stuff still.

He would figure all of that out. After all, he still had three months to his contract yet, and then another three weeks before he could start working.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Changing Lives

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Phil/Clint

Chapter: 9

Words: 1665

Warnings: nothing yet

AN: So damn tired, but another chapter posted. Hope you guys enjoy.

* * *

Smoothing his necktie down, Phil looked himself over in his mirror, humming in approval. He had been training for his handler position for nearly a year and had just celebrated his twenty-third birthday the week before. But now he was going to get his first agent under him, a man who he had chosen himself. He was kind of nervous but also very excited for what the future was bringing him.

If he did well with the first team that he was taking over, he would end up having three different teams under his command within the year. His own trainer had told him that he was good as a handler. But he would still need to prove himself with this first team.

Turning away from his mirror, Phil left the small bedroom that was a part of the apartment suite that he had been given on the helicarrier and walked over to his dining table slash desk. He flipped through the file on the group that he was assigned before he picked it up and moved to his coffee pot. While it percolated, he flipped open the files and started to read over each person, thinking over the information. The group all had some form of formal training in their various fields, along with some not-so-formal training.

Their chosen hacker had been recruited by the FBI when they had discovered the backdoor that he had created in their files nearly two years before. It had been as they were updating their system, and someone had noticed the weak spot in their coding.

The head of the group was a guy named Clint Coulson. And it looked as if he had a pretty good family history compared to most he knew. He had military history in his family and had followed their footsteps, joining up and soon after becoming a sniper with a specialization in arrows. Some of said arrows were coming from the young Tony Stark who had been doing a private consultation for Clint's original group. S.H.I.E.L.D. itself was unable to buy them for Clint, so it came down to him and Clint to buy any new arrows or to work a contract so that they were the middle man between them and Stark.

It looked as if they were going to either work it out that Stark never had to go near Fury, or they got names of some of the better made suppliers from him. He had an intense hate for Fury apparently.

The rest of the team were hand chosen by Phil over the last year based on how they worked with each other on missions.

Sighing, Phil closed the files and poured coffee into a large travel mug before packing up his bag. He would continue to go through the files once he was at his new office. He had set up his new computer in the office, which was more of a closet then anything but had space and made sure that the heavy-duty anti-virus and anti-spyware worked. He had splurged and bought the new Stark computer that was offered and told Fury that it was his.

And his alone. No one would gain access to it and he would keep it that way since his phone talked to the computer since it too was a Stark model. Anyone tried, and he would know.

Leaving the small apartment and turning right to the bank of elevators, he took one to the correct floor of the helicarrier. It was as he started down the hall to his office that his phone pinged at him with an alert, making him sigh as he pulled it out. Phil snorted before pressing a button, locking his computer remotely even as he continued walking to his office.

Opening the door, he stepped inside, raising an eyebrow at finding one Clint Coulson smirking at a pretty redhead who was scowling at the computer. Most likely unhappy that it had locked her out. "I do not like my personal computer being touched. You must be the one that they call the Black Widow. Also known as Natasha Romanoff," he drawled in greeting. He closed the door behind with a snap. "That is indeed my personal computer. It wasn't bought using S.H.I.E.L.D. funds, which means it was bought with my own funds and is therefore mine." He stared at her, stopping her from speaking when she opened her mouth. "Please remove yourself from my chair and my office. And do not forget any and all bugs that you placed. Thank you."

He walked around his desk, smirking as she stood and moved away from him, taking the bug that she had planted under the keyboard tray with her. Once she had left, closing the door behind her, Phil sighed and locked the electronic lock with his phone, moving to remove the rest of the bugs.

"You would think that a highly trained assassin such as her would know better. All S.H.I.E.L.D. handlers are well trained to detect and remove any bugs that are in their personal spaces due to the nature of their work," Phil drawled.

Clint snickered softly and shrugged. "Yeah, well, she's been known ta do it to everyone that comes to be a handler for one of us. I tried ta tell her to not do that since you were military trailed…" Clint shrugged. "She doesn't listen to me often because she still doesn't trust me all that well," he told the other man. "So, you're the new handler, right?" He shifted on the small couch.

"Yes." Phil dropped the bugs into a small plastic baggie and dropped it into a metal lock box that would disrupt their signals easily. He then put the lock box into a drawer and closed it with a smirk. "I am. I am also, as you well know, your team's handler. My name is Phil Barton, Agent Coulson.

"I do not expect much, but I do expect you to try to _work with_ me instead of against me. I can tell you right now that I won't take any of your usual bullshit that you have pulled on different handlers since you've joined. I know that you've been here for two years already and that you have gone through four different handlers in that time. Mostly because you didn't work with them." He looked up at Clint, face blank. "I will not put up with that shit. I will put you through the same punishments that I used on my trainees when I was contracted to the Army if need be."

Clint smirked at him. Nodding his head, he stretched. "Sure, I can do that," he promised, shifting in his seat and sighing in pleasure at the comfortableness of it. "You must have had some money to be able to get this shit. S.H.I.E.L.D. bought shit sucks."

"While I was contracted, I didn't find that I had to buy much while I was with the Army," Phil said. He transferred the files from his bag to his desk, neatly lining them up. "I was chosen to be your handler because I used to handle a few teams personally when they were stateside. I also trained them harder than my other classes. I have your first mission under me right here," he said, handing Clint a file, keeping the rest for himself. "You and your team are needed to take this person out. It has proven very hard to get close to him, but we have learned that he is pulling strings that we do not want pulled right now."

"Do we want it to look like a rival hit?" Clint asked, flipping through the pages with a thoughtful look on his face. "Bomb? Or maybe just a sniper hit?"

Phil nodded as he sat back in his chair, flipping open the full file on the mission. "Make it a rival killing. That would be best. We want to take down the entire ring, so you will need your hacker to get into the files. This means that it'll be a full team mission most likely," he said after a moment. "This will include me. We need to strip out his files and bring them in before we take him down though. Which means that your first job is those files."

"That won't be a problem for Cyber," Clint promised. He smirked as he stood with his file in hand. "I'll go start planning this up and tell the team. We usually talk over lunch."

"If you could, bring them by afterwards please. Seeing as I'm still setting up I can't come to the meeting, but I would like to meet them face to face," Phil said, getting a nod.

Unlocking the door, he watched as Clint left before he locked the door again. Unlocking his computer with his rather complicated password, he settled in to start his paperwork for the new file. He knew that once the mission was done there would be even more to fill out. But, for now he could fill out the basics to get a head-start on said paperwork.

Huffing softly, Phil shifted forward in his seat and worked his way through that part of the paperwork before he moved onto the paperwork that his predecessor had started but never gotten to finish. He used the man's notes to get several of the reports at least started. There were a few missions that he would have to do some research on, if not call the man to fill in some of the blanks in his notes.

Four hours later finally found him leaving the office to head down to his apartment to get food. He ignored the fact that he was being followed by Natasha. She would just have to learn to deal with him. He had to deal with circus people for far too long to be intimidated by her.

Much less anything else that she had in mind for him.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Changing Lives

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Phil/Clint

Chapter: 10

Words: 1777

Warnings: nothing yet

AN: Mrgh.

That is all.

(Though, sick, plus tired, plus working out how a would work for me and how too best PIMP THAT SHIT out…yeah. Left me exhausted.)

* * *

"So, what are we going to do today?" Clint asked. Pulling out his smaller bow from its case, he started to check it for readiness, stringing it with quick moves. He pulled the string a few times before he let it go with a twang. Phil looked up from the computer that he was at, turning around in the small command van and staring at Clint with a frown. "I do need to know details, Barton, and we both know it."

"You know that you're to provide back up. That's why it was suggested that you take the smaller bow. You'll be working with Code and Cyber to get into the building. From there, he will hack the system. You'll both have about ten minutes from that moment on before someone learns of the backdoor. Maybe. There shouldn't be too many guards or people around tonight," Phil stated. "Cyber, being our inside agent this time, is going to try to keep as many of them out of the way as he can, but they do have a rather tight schedule that they need to adhere to. So that means that you need to get in and out. Fast."

"That's not an issue. We can do that. It's not like we haven't worked on shorter time schedules," Clint said. He hitched his bow onto his back and added the specially designed arrows to his small quiver. It sat out of his way and high up on his back, enough so that he could get to the shorter arrows easier. He rather liked the short bow, seeing as it had been made by Stark for his birthday last month, so he could use it as his personal weapon and still have enough power to do its job.

"Good." Phil turned slightly. "He's waiting for you at the doorway. Remember to keep your face out of sight," he said. He pointed to the half-mask that Clint used when there were going to be cameras, an attached hood hiding his hair.

Clint smirked and saluted before pulling on the set, arranging it so that both items sat correctly. Once he opened the doors, he slipped out and left. After the doors had closed, Phil slipped into the front seat and pulled away from the alleyway, leaving his archer to head to where Cyber and Code was waiting for him.

Parking down the street in another alley-way, he tucked his small ear-piece into his ear as he moved back into the back. "Can you hear me?" he asked softly.

" _No issue on my end,_ " Code said over the line before he was seen on one hacked camera. Cyber flicked a look up from where he was lounging outside of the employee backdoor, smoking a cigarette and grunted in reply.

Clint was just out of frame next to Code as he adjusted his own ear-piece. "Not an issue," he said, nodding to Code who nodded and pulled out his phone.

" _Good. You both are coming through,"_ Phil said. " _Get to work. Your window is starting now,"_ he said, the sound of clicking keys reaching them with the words.

Cyber smirked at Clint before he nodded his head, dropping his cigarette to the ground. He squished it under one foot, turning to the door and waiting for the camera light that he could see blink twice before swiping a card. Pulling the door open, he allowed Clint and Code to follow after him just as the camera blinked again.

" _Your route is to the left. Take the stairs up to the third floor. From there and from there, take the elevator,"_ Phil instructed the two of them. Sharing a look, the two men headed to the left and up the stairs, Cyber slipping into the guard room to 'watch' the cameras, timing it just right as the cameras blinked twice before blinking again once they were out of sight. They caught the elevator that had opened the moment that they got there.

"Oh, but he is good," Clint chuckled. Code smirked as they watched the numbers rise. "Once we get to the right floor, it's just going to be us alone until we're done ."

Code nodded, his black dyed hair falling into his eyes. "So I was told. I have everything that we need, so no worries," he promised as he pulled out a small phone like device. He attached a thin flash drive to it, tapping away at the screen. Looking at it, Clint blinked and decided that the code that his partner was nicknamed for was just out of his knowledge range.

"Are you ready?" Clint asked as he pulled an arrow from his quiver. He notched it as they came to the floor that they were to get off. Looking out of the half open doors, they got two beeps in their ears over their headsets, telling them that they were free to head down the hall.

Sliding into the room they wanted, Code went to the large computer and pulled out a cord. He attached the cord between the main tower and his phone, quickly breaking the security using the backdoor that he had created last week during a 'maintenance run'. It was a few minutes later, as Clint stood by the door with a silenced gun in his hand. Code growled over just what he was finding as he downloaded it all.

"This fucker is one twisted man," he muttered.

"How so?" Clint asked him. He looked at Code for a split second before going back to scanning the parts of the hallway that he could see.

" _He's been well known for his abuse in any 'master/slave relationship' that he has,_ " Phil stated over the line. " _He's known to like them young, jailbait young. He's also known to force them to use hormones to keep them from being able to grow any more if he thinks he can get away with it. The ones he chooses tend to run away the moment they can if he hasn't 'trained' them to fear him soon enough."_ There was clacking keys as the data streamed to him. " _Good. Just the files that we need, Code. We'll take him down for the rest of it later."_

Code growled but calmed himself down, nodding. "Understood, sir," he grunted. He started to download copies of the entire hard drive. While that happened, he created another backdoor for Phil to upload a virus that would spread through the entirety of the computer systems. From that they would be able to download everything from any computer that was attached to the system. They would be able to go through everything, keep up to date, and build a proper case against the other idiots who were a part of the ring.

"Done," Code said. He pulled the cord from the phone and closed everything that he had opened. He wiped his trail with a few keystrokes and stood up, nodding at Clint who switched out his bow for his silenced gun before leading the way out of the office. They slipped into the elevator just in time for the guard to walk up to the floor. The two blew out their breaths as they started to head down to the third floor. It was easy to backtrack and head out, getting out onto the streets.

Phil switched the feeds one last time as Clint and Code headed to where he was. Cyber was going to 'quit' because of 'family issues' in a week's time and would arrive back at the Helicarrier after that.

"We all good?" Clint asked as he and Code climbed into the van, closing the door behind them. Phil held up a finger and finished his part before he pulled his communicator from his ear. Turning to them, he smirked.

"We're good. Now, let's head on back to the building and then head for our pick-up spot," he instructed. He climbed up into the front seat. Clint smiled at Code, getting a strained smile from the other man as he turned his laptop on to start work on cracking the files. He would also have to put them into their proper order. "Is the virus doing its job?" Phil asked as he started the van. "I didn't have time to check beyond an initial scan."

Code grunted as he quickly buckled himself in, connecting his specialized phone in. "By the looks of it, yeah, the virus is doing what we want it to do," he said. Phil pulled away from the curb and headed down the street, taking care not to draw attention to them.

Clint settled in and allowed the two to talk as he broke down his bow, stroking it with a smile before he closed his case. "I take it that the stuff is uploading all of the computer systems without issue?" he asked. He was kind of worried about that, but Code had promised that he would be able to do that. He had helped his friend set up that section of computers earlier. He had acted like a new janitor helping Code, who had been the maintenance man doing computer things, move things in, and wasn't too sure about his own skills.

"Don't worry about it, Hawkeye. It's loading up just fine. And I think that it's a good thing that we're going after this fucker," Code said. He sighed as he started to work his way through some of the pictures and videos he had found. "How is this asshole still in business? Not to mention, alive? Shit…" he breathed out.

"What is it?" Phil asked, his voice sharp and worried.

Code smirked. "Sir, S.H.I.E.L.D. might not have enough time to get at him," Code warned. He looked up to Phil before looking to Clint. "It seems that he took a lover and treated them as badly as you said he tended to treat his lovers. Said lover is the younger brother of the head of a high up Italian Family," he drawled. "It seems the young man in question is currently under home care from a very private physician. And the brother is _pissed_."

Phil smiled, just a small quirk of his lips that made Clint and Code shiver slightly. "I'll have to make sure that I warn Direct Fury when we get back to the helicarrier," he said. He shrugged, the two noting that he didn't sound the least bit concerned and was heading for a fast food place to get a late dinner.

Clint and Code shared a look before laughing as they high-fived each other, finding that they really did like their new handler.


	11. Chapter 12

Title: Changing Lives

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Phil/Clint

Chapter: 12

Words: 1373

Warnings: violence

AN: I am so tired, but here you go! More story! And damn, after this chapter, only 2 more to go!

How time flies.

Enjoy!

Four years, countless missions, lovers who came and went, and Clint and Phil still worked together. Still fucked together. And were currently figuring out what had gone wrong with research.

"You do realize that all of that this sucks hard, yeah?" Clint drawled. Flopping onto the chair, he stared at the white board that had pictures and names on it, thinking of how things had gone down in the last few days. He and Natasha had been watching over a cube that had been found with Steve Rogers AKA Captain America. Dr. Selvig had been the head researcher and had shared his with Fury and Hill about some of the readings.

It had been about then that the cube had flashed, a portal had opened, and Loki had been dropped out. Now that he was sitting for a second, Clint could admit that the guy looked haggard. As if he had been under the care of someone who had broken him. Loki had fought well against him and Natasha, but he had seemed...stiff. As if he was sore. Hurting.

Clint had gotten away from the fight without being hit by the staff, along with Hill and Fury, but Natasha had been compromised. So here they were, in the helicarrier, sitting in front of a board with a list of people that they had called in to track the Tesseract and take out Loki.

And one who had popped up rather randomly.

Phil grunted. "Yes." He looked over the list with narrowed eyes.

The first person on the board was Tony Stark. Also known as the famous Iron Man. Phil had gone to his tower personally to fill him in, the genius giving him the same look that he always did. He had once more muttered that 'Barton' wasn't right for the man, making him rather amused at his hidden friend. As was their ritual, he explained that his name was 'Philip Barton'.

Pepper had simply snickered as they sniped and bantered back and forth while talking about what he was being called in for.

The second picture was that of Bruce Banner. The man who could turn into The Hulk and brought back from India. Clint had been sent to get him and had met him outside of the house in India that he was taking care of people, handing him the medicine and asking for a short amount of his time. Because Clint hadn't used trickery or tried to force him, Bruce had agreed.

He had taken care of the family and three others and then sat down with Clint in his own small hovel home. Clint had laid out all the information that they had and asked his help in getting things done. Bruce had agreed to come to the Helicarrier and search for the cube.

Steve Rogers, Captain America, was the third picture. He had been waiting for Clint and Bruce to arrive already, getting a smirk from his sometimes lover and full-time friend slash handler. The man had been reading over the files and flat out told Phil that he didn't believe them worth shit.

Phil had just smirked at him, gave him his notes on the people around them that he had written himself and gone to greet Tony and Thor personally.

Thor was the final picture on the board. They knew him and trusted him, to a point, but didn't know how he was going to react to everything. Especially since it was apparently his own brother who was trying to set up whatever he was setting up. The blond God and Tony had gotten into it, with Tony coming out of that fight with a need to fix another suit of armor, much to his displeasure.

But Thor had ended up singed and respectful of Tony and Steve.

Phil huffed, crossing his legs as he stared at the files. "You're not happy with the fact that we were forced to gather them all up the way we have," he said, looking at Clint.

"No, I'm not happy. I don't like this." Clint shifted. "Has Stark always had that mask of his?" he asked. Phil just blinked for a moment. Having a loving family who cared for you didn't mean that a person couldn't figure out how best to read a person on the go. Clint had learned how to read people from his uncle and perfected it during his time in the military long before he had joined S.H.I.E.L.D.

"I think so. At least from what I've seen in the last few years," he said, tapping his fingers on the chair arm. "He's always been kind of...a showman. He plays up to the crowd."

"I see," Clint hummed, crossing his legs. "You think that he'll get tired of Rogers comparing him to his father?"

"Sucker bet right there," Phil stated, shaking his head. "Those two will either be best of friends or be the worst of enemies. And I have no idea what they'll be in the long run."

Clint grunted. "I get along with Stark well enough. He's got a good head on his shoulders. And Banner seems to like him. Finds it amusing that Stark doesn't fear him at all."

"I doubt that Stark will fear the greener side of Dr. Banner," Phil said, shrugging. He stood and stared at the pictures. "Thor...do you think he will be an issue when it comes to Loki?" He looked at his friend.

"In some ways, no. In some others, maybe. He has grown up since the last time you saw him. From what I remember, he was forced to rethink things," Clint admitted. He crossed his legs and picked up an arrow, playing with it as he thought. "I think he wants to find out what's going on with his brother, blood or not. He's worried about the insane bastard."

"The thing is, I don't think he's fully insane. At least not for good reason," Phil said, sighing as he rubbed at his face. "I looked at the body cam footage and the footage from other sources. Thor told me that his brother had green eyes."

"Yeah?" Clint asked, watching Phil stand up and pull out two pictures, hanging them up onto the white board with some tape. "Code work on them?" he asked.

"Yes. He was able to clean these up. This first picture is from when he showed himself for a short time when he was checking on his brother. This one is from when he first arrived," Phil said, pointing to left one before the right one. "See? Different eye color. The same color as Natasha's became when she had been hypnotized."

Clint pushed himself up and walked over, comparing the two pictures with narrowed eyes. "Fuck. What do you think we need to do? We have him stuck in that room after all and he's a sassy bastard but...yeah something feels off," he sighed, rubbing at his face with a groan.

"We need to speak with him," Phil decided, walking over to his phone and picking it up as the helicarrier shuddered. Clint staggered into the white board while Phil grunted, shoved into his desk stomach first. "Fuck."

"What the fuck was that?" Clint snarled as he righted himself, wiping off the dry erase marker from his face and hands.

"It looks like we're under attack! Natasha is here!" Phil called out as alarms started to blare. "They're most likely going for Loki. Help the others. Make sure that the Hulk doesn't bring us down in his rage. If you can, get Natasha free from the mind control," he told him, pulling out his guns and ammo, making sure he had enough.

"Right," Clint replied, grabbing his bow and quiver, along with a few extra clips of ammo for his own gun. Opening the door, he turned to look at Phil. "Stay safe."

"Of course. And if you hear bullshit from Fury, tell him to fuck off and give you the truth," Phil drawled, Clint smirking at him. Nodding, he left the office and ran for where the Avengers had been. He cursed at hearing the roar of the Hulk as he came across a large broken hole in the floor.


	12. Chapter 13

Title: Changing Lives

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Phil/Clint

Chapter: 13

Words: 1697

Warnings: Some off-screen death

AN: I'm kind of sad to see this story go. This is not the last chapter, but next chapter is. But I'm also to continue on with what I'm doing with life.

I have a story that is coming out starting Feb 11 that is a Kuroshitsuji/Bleach fluff piece pretty much. It will be 25 chapters and is with the CutsyCat, who is my lovely beta for most of my stories.

I am also writing on an Avengers/Bleach short fic and about to hit the midway point. And another fic that is Marvel/DC crossover. I'm not sure as to how long those two stories will be but I am working on a longer Naruto fic that I'm hoping to finish off before I finish posting these three fics.

And I do mean longer.

So don't worry, I have a lot of stories to come! For now, enjoy and see you next week!

* * *

Finding the Hulk, Clint started to play "Dodge the big green fist" through the lower areas of the quinjet before finally getting to an airlock and tripping him up and out of the airlock. Panting for a few moments, he saw a flash of red before he had to dodge with a curse of Natasha's name. Remembering her moves, he dodged and kept out of her way, frowning.

Finally, he grabbed her and used his weight to take her down, slamming her head against the rail of the walkway that they had been fighting on. He did it again when he saw the blue in her normally brown eyes flicker, doing it twice more before it faded completely, and she went limp.

"What? How?" she slurred as she laid on the ground, holding her throbbing head. Clint panted as he rested his hands on his knees, before he chuckled.

"You were really seriously stiff, Nat. You were fighting against yourself," he said, offering his hand up as the alarms were cut. Red lights were still flashing, making him frown.

"Loki got away," Natasha groaned, leaning into him. She rubbed at the back of her head. "Really? Did you have to slam my head on the damn railing?"

"Cognitive re-calibration. Or some shit," Clint drawled, dragging her off to the infirmary. After she had been checked over and given the all clear, they attended the briefing.

He found himself knocked for a loop at the news that Fury told them about Phil, forcing him to call upon every bit of his training to hide his emotions behind a blank face. Natasha just gave him an understanding look while Tony, still pulling himself out of his battered suit, watched.

As Natasha spoke of what she knew about what was going on, Clint listened with half an ear as she talked. His mind swirled with thoughts of Phil. The man had been a solid presence in his life for the last several years, keeping him grounded in ways that his parents couldn't. But now he was gone...and he ached.

Later, as he was preparing the quinjet to get them to New York where Loki was heading, at least from Natasha's memory, Tony found him. He had changed into a new under-suit, an Ironman suit waiting for him already. JARVIS had been fast to send it to him from the tower, and it had gotten there just as they had been checked over.

"I would have thought you would be stocking up on your arrows, Legolas," he drawled. He eyed the other man with thoughtful eyes.

"And I would have thought that you would be in jeans and a t-shirt, Iron Ass," Clint quipped back. Tony noticed that the words were only half-hearted.

Tony stared at him, honey colored eyes took in the worn look around Clint, frowning slightly. "You gonna be okay to do this? You don't have to go. Not if you think you'll break in the middle of the fight," he said after a moment.

Clint paused as he reached out to press a button on the panel before he turned to really look at the serious looking Tony. He smiled sadly. "I'll be fine to do this. I promise," he said. He shook his head. "It hurts, yes. I know that he's not going to be here to fight with us, but I can do this. I really can. He wouldn't want the world to go to hell just because I couldn't do what needs to be done. There'll be time for me to mourn him."

Tony nodded. "Yeah, there will be. Hey, if we're still alive after this shit, I'll take you to a favorite place of mine. It's on the outskirts just before the suburbs, and a hole in the wall. Doubtful that it'll get destroyed this thing. After that, we'll go to Miami and I'll let you hide away for a few days in one of my places. Get plastered. Eat junk food. Watch movies that'll leave you hurting from laughter instead of loss," he said. He stood straight and patted Clint on the shoulder.

Turning around, he left. As Clint watched him leave, he wondered why the others of their group couldn't see just who Tony was in truth.

Once they arrived in New York, everyone getting dropped off, they were lost in the heat of battle. The Chitauri came at them hot and fast as Tony muttered about things over their open communications line. When the man had been tossed out of a window, Clint had damn near had a heart attack as they were forced to watch a suit assemble around him.

At least he didn't go splat on the concrete below.

He barely caught sight of Tony as he pushed a nuke through a portal before falling through as Natasha shoved Loki's staff through the shield around the machine, short circuiting it. Breathing out, he groaned and started to climb over the rubble to where Tony was on the ground, waking up after being roared at by the Hulk.

"Fuck me. Next time you decide to that, you idiot, I'm tossing you off a cliff myself," he threatened as he followed instructions on how to unlatch the suit. Tony laughed softly and stood up, turning to his suit to reboot it. They soon gathered Loki from the indent in the floor, Clint finding some satisfaction at holding an arrow on the God.

For the first week after the battle, when they weren't out helping the clean-up, they were holed up in what was left of Tony's tower. Tony was working on making sure the base apparatus that would run off the cube would work, asking him several pointed questions on Clint's suggestion. The rant that Tony went off on after talking to Thor, had been epic and filled with curses about a warrior people who were a bunch of jocks.

After that, he stalked down to the holding cell to talk with Loki about why he had led the invasion, and had learnt about Thanos.

Clint was surprised, only thinking that Tony would learn about the fact that he was hypnotized. Tony and Clint sat down though and talked about the alien threat who was most likely going to take nearly four years to get to them. They weren't sure what would happen between that moment and their present, but they had to focus on preparing the world for this.

Tony started to plan for satellites that would supposedly be flying out to observe other planets, better and longer lasting, but would watch for Thanos getting to them.

They learned that there were giant robots that looked like cars while Tony was doing some deep diving into government records, but they weren't really concerned about that. They would ask for help from the alien robots if it came down to it, but for now they were going to ignore it.

It was two weeks after Thor had left, and three after the attack on New York, and the two surprising friends were invading S.H.I.E.L.D.'s intensive care infirmary. Tony had discovered something while scanning through some of the hidden S.H.I.E.L.D. files, doing an update that they had asked and paid for.

The moment that he had learned it, he had found Clint buried under blankets on his bed, holed up in a hidey hole condo that Tony owned, and had babbled about what he had discovered. He had found a special someone in a medical coma in a S.H.I.E.L.D. base.

From there, they had packed up all that they could, hitched a ride on a quinjet that Tony had been tinkering with, and got to the base, getting in easily. Tony left Clint to find Fury, knowing that the man was at the base, so he could tear a strip out of his hide and beat him with it. Clint on the other hand was going to the man who had held his heart without him even knowing it until the moment he thought he was dead.

Slipping into his room, closing the door behind him, Clint swallowed and stared at Phil. He slowly walked over to his bed and picked up the medical file. Reading over it, he frowned slightly as he read over the information that was there. Some of it collaborated with what Loki had talked when Clint had snuck down to talk with him. Swallowing, he saw that whatever healing that had started while Phil had laid there had helped him to live through having the staff shoved into him.

"Damn it, Phil. I really thought that you were dead. When you wake up, I'm going to go use Fury's ass as a pin cushion again," Clint huffed, his eyes wet as he stared at his lover, the man breathing evenly.

Sighing to himself, the archer took a seat next to Phil and kicked his legs up onto a low side table, getting comfortable to watch over the man. Natasha would get her text later, when she wasn't doing some work required to help clean things up. The other Avengers would be called later and told what Tony had discovered. He was so very pissed off and Clint was only trusting Tony to tear Fury apart for him.

He knew that Tony was dismantling every argument that would come from Fury, most likely leaving him worried about a mutiny when he discovered that Tony offered a place for all of the Avengers. Especially when it was learnt that Tony had the copyrights and trademarks to the likeness of the Avengers and was already in the works to create a small business off their names.

But Clint would think about that, after he wasn't sitting in a chair, melting into the chair that was surprisingly comfortable as he came down from the sudden adrenaline rush. Starting to doze, he missed the tired eyes that opened above the oxygen mask on Phil's face, and the soft, caring smile that spread over thin lips before the man fell asleep again.

He knew that they would see each other when he woke again, but Phil still had healing to finish.


	13. Chapter 14

Title: Changing Lives

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Phil/Clint

Chapter: 14

Words: 1672

Warnings:

AN: Last chapter! *cries* But I hope that you have enjoyed this wild ride and that you will keep coming back for more! *snugs all the lovely people* Look out for a the Kuroshitsuji/Bleach fic that is coming out next. :D

Enjoy.

* * *

"You seriously scared the absolute shit out of me," Clint sighed as he slumped back on the couch. Phil smiled slightly as he settled into the recliner, kicking up the footrest. "I know, I know, you didn't mean to but still…"

"We both knew that there was the possibility of one of us getting hurt while on the job," Phil drawled. He settled fully down with a groan.

Tony, true to his nature, had flown the two males out to his Miami house after having a room set-up for Phil once the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors had approved him to leave the base. While the genius was still at the house, mostly down in his lab going over plans and creating new suits, the other two men had run of the house. Tony tended to stick to his bedroom and lab anyways.

Clint still couldn't figure out why Steve was so huffy and pissy about Tony and the way he was naturally. When he had asked Tony about it, he had said it had something to do with his father.

"Yeah. I know." Clint sighed, handing Phil a bottle of root beer, the only kind of beer that Tony was keeping in stock in his homes since they learned of what was coming. "I just…" he started. Phil smiled softly at him.

"I know," he promised. He reached out and tugged on a bit of the other man's short hair. "This isn't anything amazing though. With the fact that Loki kick started my healing process even as he pulled the staff out, I was saved. To be truthful, the stab wound that I dealt with because of my idiot brother was more fatal than this one," he admitted. He rubbed at the spot where the scar from that sat.

Clint stared at him, having only heard bits and pieces of Phil's life history over the years. He knew that the man had at one time been learning to run a circus while his brother worked as one of the front people along with a guy named Trickshot when he actually showed up for work. He also knew that he and his brother had lost their parents at a young age, had gone to live with his uncle in said circus, and that his brother had helped Trickshot steal quite a bit of money from their employers.

But to hear Phil talk about that time of his life in detail was rare.

"How old were you when you got the contract with the Army?" he asked suddenly. He was rather curious about that. "You know that I joined right out of high school for their degree program that they offered, but I don't actually know about you."

"I was seventeen when I was stabbed. My birthday happened while I was in the hospital and had just turned nineteen when I was offered the contract. I was about twenty-one, almost twenty-two, when I was offered to train teams with S.H.I.E.L.D and I had just turned twenty-four when we formed our team," Phil drawled. He smirked at the other man. "I'm now twenty-eight and I know for a fact that you're twenty-seven yourself so don't try to bullshit me."

Clint pouted at him. "I should call my mom. Tell her that we're still alive and all that," he sighed after a few minutes.

"Now why would you need to tell her about me?" Phil asked. He was feeling rather curious about what his lover and friend was thinking. Especially with the red that was spreading over Clint's cheeks. "What?"

"I kind of told her about you a few times. Just that I worked with you and that you were a friend," Clint admitted, blushing brighter. "She kind of put two and two together and came up with us at the least fucking each other every chance we can get. She's been wanting to meet you for the last two years but with everything that was going on…"

Phil stared at Clint for several seconds before he snorted and burst into laughter, shaking his head. He smiled indulgently at the other man. "Oh my, but that is interesting," he drawled. He tilted his head to the side, eyes half lidded. "Did you tell her that I'm not known to be a good boy despite the way I dress and the way I act? That I bounced from home to home until I was finished being raised in a circus?" he asked.

"Yep." Clint nodded. "She still wants to meet with you," he told him. He shrugged with a slight smile. Phil laughed once more, shaking his head. "She wants to stuff you full of good food. I told her to let me figure things out before she went and treated you like one of her own."

"So?" Phil asked after he had gotten his laughter under control.

"So what?" Clint asked. He shifted and eyed the man next to him as Phil shifted, laying partially against the squishy arm of the couch.

"Did you figure things out?" he asked him. Clint narrowed his eyes at Phil, noting that the man sounded as if he already knew something and was just waiting for him to figure it out himself.

Clint sighed and moved to the extra-large recliner, climbing onto it carefully, taking care that he didn't hit the still healing wound. He laid on his side with his head on Phil's shoulder. Every time they watched movies or shows together, they had landed in that very position, usually on a couch, but this time there was something more to it.

Phil smiled and shifted slightly so that he could wrap his arm around Clint's waist, holding him close and nuzzling into soft, short hair.

"I think that I don't want to just bring one of my best friend's home with me. I want to take…" Clint started, trailing off with a blush. He flicked his eyes up at the other man. "I want to take my partner home with me," he finished. He looked at the softly smiling Phil who just raised an eyebrow. "You knew that we would come to this most likely, didn't you?" he asked, pouting at his lover.

Phil laughed again, a soft sweet sound that always warmed Clint inside out, knowing that that laugh was meant for him and him alone. "I did indeed know that there was a possibility for more for us. But nothing else," Phil admitted after he stopped laughing. "We were partnered because of our temperaments. Our pasts worked well with each other, Clint. We would be able to even each other out while I made sure that our life didn't hurt your world view to a point of no return. You had such a happy life that they were worried about that, even with your service record."

Clint frowned at that. "Fury wanted to make sure that I wouldn't go off the deep end, huh?" He snorted. "My mother would have hunted me down, hogtied me, and stuffed me into a closet until I was sane again if I did that. He does know this right?" he asked.

"He found that particular bit of information out after she had called him up the last Christmas that you couldn't return home because of missions. I was speaking with Hill and heard the yelling from down the hall," Phil snorted. "That's why you don't have any long-term missions during the month of December," he drawled.

"And why I've been getting my requests returned rather fast too, right? I'm on the 'get rid of list due to parents' list," Clint teased. He laid his head back down, feeling rather good about how things were going for him now.

"Yep." Phil stroked a hand up and down Clint's back, content for the moment to just lay there with him. His stomach on the other hand suddenly rumbled, demanding food right then and there. "I suppose that we need to get food," he mused.

As Clint moved to stand up to hunt food down, Tony strolled through the living room with his wallet in hand. "What are you up to, genius boy?" the archer asked. The doorbell rang in answer.

"JARVIS told me that you were cuddling and being smoochie while you two figured things out," Tony drawled. "So, I ordered celebratory food. Three deep dish pizzas from a real pizza place, along with various other dishes to choose from. Dessert is going to be gooey since I have all of the ingredients for Death by Chocolate," he continued. He opened the door and smiled at the delivery boy. "Just set it on the coffee table, would ya?" he asked, watching the guy juggle the boxes.

The delivery boy, who turned out to be more of a man in age, did so before smiling at Tony, his eyes running over him. Tony just gave the man a thoughtful look.

Phil broke into Tony's thinking with a roll of his eyes. "Pay the man, Tony. Clint, plates and napkins. I need to move into a better position to eat anyways. The docs would gut me if I ate in this position."

"I thought that you had already been gutted," Tony quipped. He paid the man and tipped him before showing him out. Phil groaned for more than the pain of sitting up as Clint padded into the kitchen for said items.

"We have got to find someone to fuck you into oblivion. Often," Phil snorted. He smirked at a sudden idea. Clint walked out to the two having a stare down.

"Don't even think about it," Tony warned before he sat down, leaving Clint confused.

' _What had just happened?'_ he wondered.

The moment that Tony opened the various boxes and containers though, he shoved those thoughts out. He had his new best friend, his lover, and good food laid out before him. He would be taking his lover home once he was healed, and that was a good thing in his mind.

Life was good.


End file.
